


Life Without Magic

by CabbagetheElder



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Draco Malfoy in the Muggle World, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Romance, F/M, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Post-War, first fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-17 16:14:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28727931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CabbagetheElder/pseuds/CabbagetheElder
Summary: After the war, Draco Malfoy is given probation and forced to live in the Muggle World. Hermione Granger was traumatized by the events of the war. Unable to use magic, healers recommend that she live away from the magical world while receiving treatment. When Hermione enters a coffee shop in London and sees an all too familiar face behind the counter, both Hermione and Draco are forced to confront their pasts.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 12
Kudos: 68





	1. Chapter 1

The bell above the door chimed as yet another caffeine fiend entered. Some days he felt like he might as well be trafficking in potions in Knockturn Alley. He took pleasure as his customers turned from inferi into actual muggles as they sipped his creations. And they were his creations, sure Irvin had shown him how to operate the espresso machine, but Draco had approached his job like a potions master. He picked out improperly roasted or unsightly beans before grinding, ground them down to the perfect texture, measured out the perfect amount, and tamped down the grind before inserting it into his always immaculately cleaned machine. He took pride in pulling the perfect shot of espresso, but his lattes were his source of joy in his borrowed life. 

When he started at the Morning Roastery he just tried to make sure he brought the milk up to the proper temperature before assembling the latte, but now he made them into art … literally. His customers were delighted with his designs and commending him for his latte art. But after one of his customers complimented him and said it a “good” piece of latte art he was flummoxed. He had thought that the Great Draco Malfoy was pioneering a new form of art that would impress anyone who came into contact with it! But really, there was no “Great Draco Malfoy” there never was. There was just Draco Malfoy, and, now, he was just Draco. The Malfoy name certainly meant nothing in the Muggle World and he doubted it would ever matter again in the Wizarding World. 

Still though, he always approached the espresso machine as though he were brewing the Elixir of Life, which in some ways he was. This drive to always be improving and perfecting what he was working on had certainly not come from his conniving and ruthless father. No, resolve was formed at Hogwarts, years before the Dark Lord had ruined the life that he had envisioned since he was a young boy. His parents told him that he was intelligent and would be the top of his year, but he never was. He was told that no one could rival the magical talent that existed for millenia in his pure Malfoy and Black blood. But at Hogwarts he met his match in a witch who hadn’t even heard about Magic until months before attending. For a long time, he couldn’t believe that she was better than him. He lashed out, calling her every hurtful word he could conjure. Then, he studied … and studied … and studied, but it still wasn’t enough to best her. 

With another ring of the bell, SHE walked into the cafe. 

In a panic, he put his head down preparing a pair of cappuccinos. What is SHE doing here? As he heard her make conversation with Erika at the til he did everything he could to avoid glancing over. Once the cappuccinos were prepared he rushed over to the counter almost spilling the contents of their drinks, called out the name on the order, and grabbed the next cup.

V Lat  
Hermione

He re-approached his machine, carefully wiped it down, and he went to work. As sweat started to appear on his face he went about his task with muscle memory. With everything in order he started to pour and for some reason, a large mane began to form around the edges of the cup. With a few more drops he had created a lion … for a Gryffindor. He looked down with a quick smirk before approaching the counter. He quickly shouted out “Granger” before turning back. He heard a snort to his right. He couldn’t help but glance over to see a bemused expression on the witch’s face before she whispered an almost inaudible thanks before quickly exiting the shop.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione visits her healer after her surprise encounter.

As she exited the coffee shop Hermione, could not comprehend what she had just experienced. What was Malfoy doing working in a coffee shop? Why did he go through the effort of making me this? Why is this the best latte she ever had? She needed answers. She always needed answers, but the answers to these questions could not be found in a book. As to the first question, she supposed that she could ask Harry, but she hadn’t talked to him in a few months. She didn’t have an owl, she couldn’t apparate, she didn’t have access to a floo, and she certainly couldn’t cast a patronus. Why was the Wizarding world so slow to accept technology? Telephones were invented more than one hundred years ago. It shouldn’t be this hard to contact her best friend. Her ruminations continued as she entered an inconspicuous office building for her monthly appointment. 

After going up two flights of stairs she arrived at the office of her mind healer, Mr. Brown. Pushing in she was greeted by a rather pretty witch, who informed her that Healer Brown would be with her in 10 minutes. 

Walking in Hermione greeted her healer before taking a seat on the sofa adjacent to his armchair.  
“How have you been since we last met” Healer Brown inquired. He always asked the same question first and Hermione always gave the same response, “Fine.” 

“Have you had any interaction with magic?”

“Not really, No.”

“Not really? What do you mean by that?” asked Healer Brown.

“Well, I haven’t been to Diagon Alley or anything, I ran into an old classmate just about half an hour ago.” Old classmate, Hermione thought, that is the least truthful yet truthful statement she could make. 

“Did you speak with them?”

“Not really.”

“How do you ‘not really’ speak with someone?”

“We just exchanged a few words. Nothing much.” Hermione fidgeted in her seat. She did not want to be talking about whatever had just happened. 

“Where did you see them, on the street?”

“No. He was working in a cafe and he just served my drink.”

“Interesting” Healer Brown remarked before asking the next question, the question that Hermione dreaded. “Do I know this old classmate of yours? Was he a friend”

Hermione’s face fell. She knew that he knew him, or at least knew of him. Who didn’t? They were definitely not friends. They were practically enemies? They were enemies, technically. They fought on opposite sides of the war. Why did he make me a latte with a lion? Did she even want to tell him the truth after what happened to Lavender? No, she definitely did not. But Healer Brown repeatedly told her over their year working together that if she hoped to get anything out of therapy, she needed to tell the truth. After too long, she finally responded. “Yes, you probably know him, and no he was not a friend. I just saw Draco Malfoy working in a café in Muggle London.”

Healer Brown almost imperceptibly twitched before asking, “How was the interaction?”

“Confusing.” Hermione responded without even thinking.

“How so?”

“I don’t know.” Hermione paused before words started tumbling out of her mouth with a rapidity reminiscent of when her professors called on her in class. “I was just shocked to see him there, obviously. Why was he working a job? His family has more money than the Queen. Why was he working in Muggle London? Why was he working in a cafe of all things?”

“Indeed,” Healer Brown responded “how did he treat you?”

That’s what was the most confusing, Hermione thought. “Perfectly respectfully.”

“And you implied this was confusing to you. Why?”

“Because Malfoy hates me.”

“Why do you think that?”

“He always hated me. He jinxed me in school, bullied me, insulted me for my blood status.”

“When was the last time you saw him before today?”

“At his trial.” Hermione remembered his pale skin turned somehow paler, his expression fearful, and his body looking frail.

“Wars change people, Hermione” Healer Brown said without betraying how the war had changed him.

“I know.” She knew that truth all too well. 

“Is it possible that the war changed Mr. Malfoy? 

“I suppose,” Hermione responded.

“Recount the interaction for me, would you?”

“It wasn’t much really. I ordered a latte and he was working on preparing some drinks, he knew it was me. He didn’t make eye contact. He didn’t say a word to me. He just focused on making my drink. He called out my name. I thanked him and then I left.”

“Why do you think he knew it was you?” Healer Brown asked.

Oh. Hermione did not want to answer that. “Umm. I gave my name as Hermione and he called me Granger when my order was done.” Tell the truth Hermione. “And he made a lion in my latte.”

Confused, Healer Brown responded, “he transfigured coffee into an animal in front of muggles?”

Laughing, Hermione responded. “No, no. Nothing like that. He just made a design on top of the coffee to make the milk look like a lion.”

“Magic?” Healer Brown asked in a somewhat concerned tone.

“I doubt it.” Hermione responded. “It’s a thing that muggles do with fancy coffee drinks sometimes. They kind of combine the coffee and the milk to make a design. I’ve seen it a few times before, but normally it’s something simpler like a leaf or a flower.”

“I see. How did that make you feel?”

Confused. Delighted. Confused. “Well, it confused me.”

“You agreed that war changes people, Hermione.”

“Of course.”

“Is it possible that the Draco Malfoy you knew before the war is not the same Draco Malfoy that exists after the far?”

“I suppose, yes.” 

After this line of questioning, the session proceeded much as they usually did. He asked whether she had seen any friends recently, No. He asked whether she had seen her parents. Yes, but they were distant. He asked how her work was, fine. With a few more rote questions and the session winding down he asked her one final question. 

“Would you be opposed to speaking with Mr. Malfoy”

“I guess not” Hermione responded nervously. 

“I think it may help you Hermione. If he’s not willing to speak that’s fine, but next time you go in for a coffee, ask if he’s willing to talk about his experience since you’ve last seen him.”

“Ok, I’ll try.” She had recently been reminded that she was a Gryffindor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave feedback and let me know what you like, dislike, etc. I'm mostly curious what you all think of the dialogue.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione and Draco have a conversation, but she'll leave with more questions.

The next week passed blessedly uneventful for Draco. After Granger had happened upon his place of employment, he looked up everytime the bell rang expecting a troop of Gryffindors ready to gloat, gawk, or jinx him. In a way he was happy with his forced exile from the Wizarding World. He couldn’t imagine he would be allowed to walk down the street without harassment. Now a year and a half into his oddly comfortable muggle life he was appreciating the freedom, willfully ignoring the ankle monitor that had been affixed to it. 

When his coworkers happened to see it a while ago he went with the cover story that had been supplied to him by his DMLE parole officer. He was in a gang that he was forced into by his father. His father was in prison for life, but he hadn’t committed any violent crime so he was out on parole, but he had served as a lookout. He showed his fading dark mark and said he was having the tattoo removed. He was inwardly furious at both how easily his coworkers accepted the explanation and how accurate it actually was. Thankfully, they didn’t press him much for further details because even after a year in the Muggle World, he was still clueless about many aspects of their society. 

He had his routine down and was now comfortable in his neighborhood, able to interact seamlessly as he purchased groceries, browsed the bookstore, and went on runs. When something out of the ordinary happened, like being invited to a football game, he learned that keeping quiet and observing the people around him helped him to not make a fool out of himself. 

When this rather confusing chapter started, his mother the “Savior of Harry Potter” argued to the DMLE that he could not possibly live without the aid of a house elf. While they pretended to take her concern into account before denying it, every visit from his parole officer started with “Still alive?” In a way he was glad of it because it gave him a chance to live on his own, but he was more thankful that the Ministry did agree to one of his mother’s terms that she be allowed to pay for a furnished flat near to his work. Hearing his coworkers complain about roommates, landlords, and roaches was enough for him. He couldn’t imagine living in such squalor. 

As another work day was coming to a close he heard the bell, looked up, and saw the face of Gryffindor who looked as though they were seeing an acromantula for the first time. Slowly she made her way up to the front and quickly ordered before shuffling off to the side. A slip and a mug was passed over to him. 

V Lat  
Granger

Great, so she’s going to observe me like an animal in a menagerie while I work. He set about the task with practiced skill. When it came to pour, he began another design. As he finished up a rather majestic looking eagle he called out her name. When she approached she let out another soft snort before she opened her mouth to speak. A mouth that he last heard after his friend had burnt himself alive, after Harry sodding Potter had saved his life. 

“Um. Malfoy?”

“Yes”

“Could we talk?” Hermione barely whispered

Talk? Why would she want to talk to him? “As you can see, I’m rather busy right now.” Why do you have to be such a prat all the time?

She immediately looked around seeing a near deserted coffee shop before she stated simply, “of course.”

Looking ever the fool, Draco scrambled to save face. “Give me a minute.”

A quick word with his colleague allowed him to freely walk over to her table where she had settled in, already reading a book.

“Granger? You wanted to talk”

“Um yes. I understand if you don’t want to, but my healer thought it would be a good idea after I came in last week.”

“Your healer?” The question escaped his lips before he could stop himself. 

“Yes, I’ve been going through some things since the war.”

“Of course, I didn’t want to pry. Just curious. What did you want to talk about?”

“Well, you.” Looking down, Hermione glanced down at her mug before continuing, “and why you are here.”

“Pretty simple honestly, I didn’t have a choice.”

“You didn’t have a choice?”

“Well I did somewhat, the ministry gave me a list of places where I would be forced to interact with muggles.”

Hermione paused for a moment before stating “Do you enjoy it?”

Taking a leap of faith Draco put “Promise me that not a word from this conversation leaves us, or you healer I suppose. They’re not allowed to say anything right?”

Quickly Hermione responded, “Promise. And no they aren’t allowed to break confidence outside of a few exceptional circumstances, and this conversation isn’t one of them. Well that is unless it wants to make me kill myself.” She finished with a joking tone, but it didn’t entirely seem like a joke. 

Eyeing her cautiously he answered her, “I do enjoy it.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know entirely, it reminds me of potion making somewhat and it keeps me occupied.”

“I suppose that makes sense. When did you learn how to do this?” she said gesturing down at her mug. 

“My first week here, so about a year and a half ago at this point.” 

“You learned how to make animals out of milk in a week?”

Laughing, Draco responded “No, that’s just something I started doing a few months ago. I make a few hundred drinks every day, it helps to relieve some of the monotony.”

Smiling, and with a bit of mischievousness, Hermione asked, “So what’s next? A badger?”

“Please you’re no Hufflepuff.” Draco replied with a smirk, before realizing how absurd this conversation was and how easy it was to talk to her. 

“So a snake?”

“Probably not. Granger, why are you here? Why did you want to talk, truly?”

With a serious tone returning to her voice she forced out “Why did you make a lion the first time I was here?”

“You’re a Gryffindor, obviously,” Draco responded quickly. 

“No, I get that. But why did you do anything like that at all?”

“I don’t know Granger, I just did.” Come to think of it, he didn’t know why he did it. 

“OK, I mean … Why do something like that for me? Why not spit in my drink? Don’t you hate me?” She was practically shaking as she spoke and it looked like she was on the verge of tears. 

Sighing, Draco did what seemed natural. He reached across the table, grasped her hand and spoke softly, “No. I don’t hate you. The more I’ve thought about it I never hated you.”

“Then why?” Hermione spoke, her voice trembling as she wrenched her hand free “why did you do all those things to me? Why did you say all those things you said to me?”

Pausing, trying to get his thoughts in order, Draco responded “I was young and stupid. I want to blame my parents, but that’s too easy. I think I was jealous. I’m sorry." 

Looking up and struggling to maintain eye contact Hemione responded incredulously, “You, Lord Draco Malfoy, were jealous of Hermione Granger, mudblood?”

“Please don’t" Draco responded in a dejected tone.

“Don’t what”

“Don’t call yourself that.”

“Why not, that’s what you used to call me. It seems apt.”

“I know and I’m sorry.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione tries to clear her head.

Hermione didn’t say anything for a long moment as the words “I’m sorry” reverberated in her head. Trying to compose herself she stood up from the table, muttered “Thank you for agreeing to speak with me.” 

“Are you all right?”

“Yes, I’m fine” she said as she began to make for the exit of the cafe. 

Behind her she heard “Come back any time.” Looking forward, she tried to quiet her mind. She took a left out of the cafe and walked. She was going somewhere, but she couldn’t think of where to go. And she kept walking as day started to turn into night. 

Ahead lay a bus stop and she saw the bus lines listed. Something in the back of her head told her to stop and wait. Once a bus arrived, she quickly boarded, ascended the stairs to the second level, and took a seat at the front. She looked down on the cars and people passing by, trying to focus on something, anything aside from what just happened. 

After a thirty minute ride, she began to recognize the neighborhood around her childhood home. Disembarking she walked as though pulled to her parent’s front door. Sighing and ringing the bell, she heard a shuffling before the door opened to reveal the face of her mother.

“Hermione, dear. We weren’t expecting you. Would you like to come in.”

Nodding, Hermione made the usual excuse of being just in the neighborhood. Before trying to make casual small talk while her mother prepared a pot of tea in the kitchen. When her mother emerged she bore a concerned look on her face. 

“Is something wrong, dear?”

“No. Yes. I just ran into someone and I wasn’t expecting what they said. I’m kind of flustered.”

“I’m here. What happened?” her mother said with a voice to match the look on her face. 

“Well, it’s just that I ran into a former classmate. Do you remember anything about Draco Malfoy?” With that a wall inside her mind came crumbling down. She hadn’t talked about anything of substance with her parents for a long time. Before that, at least since she’d retrieved them from Australia, anything verging on the magical drew out pained expressions from her parents’ faces. 

Practically wincing her mother asked, “wasn’t that the boy who bullied you and your friends. The ghostly boy with the white hair. What happened? Did he say something rude?”

“Well yes, that’s him. But …” Hermione paused for long, too long for her mother’s liking.

“But what.”

“He didn’t say anything.”

“Then why are you here dear?”

“Well he did say something, he said a lot. I just can’t get my head around any of it.”

“Why’s that?”

“Well, I ran into him at his work and he seemed different. I asked to talk to him and he agreed Mum, he agreed to speak with me.”

“Didn’t he, as you put it, have more gold than God? He works? Why did you ask to speak to him?”

“Well, it’s where he works that confused me. He works in a Mug- normal cafe not far from my work.”

“And you asked him why.”

“Yes and it made sense. He’s working there because, well” Hermione tried to figure out how to put this delicately “he was on the other side of the war.”

“I see” her mother responded tersely. 

“And, I’ve been going through a lot. I guess my healer thought it would be a good idea to talk to him to see if it would help me move on.”

“Your healer? Move on from what?”

“The war!” Hermione desperately stated before broaching a subject that she hadn’t dared to mention before. “I’ve just - I haven’t - been able to do magic since I brought you back from Australia.” 

“Oh dear” her mother said softly before coming to her side and wrapping her arms around her. “I’m so sorry.” Above anyone else, her mother knew what magic and being a witch meant to Hermione. 

With that Hermione burst into tears, tears she had been putting off, as her mother embraced her fully. Hermione may now be twenty years old, but she had never felt smaller, never felt more glad to be within her mother’s arms. 

“But your work, with the elves and the … centaurs, you can still do that without magic?” Her mum struggled to get out the words.

“I lied. I never actually started work there. I’ve been - been working at a library in Holloway for the last year.”

“Dear, why have you not told us?” Her mother didn’t sound angry, just hurt. 

“I just, I didn’t want to burden you.” 

“Hermione,” her mother stated firmly, “you have already protected us enough. You’ve protected your world enough. Please, we are here for you now.” 

After an eternity or perhaps it was just a few minutes her mother asked “So what did this boy tell you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story has been bubbling in my head for awhile now, so I've been getting it out one chapter after another. I know where we're headed, but I just don't know how long it will take to get there. I'm shifting back and forth between Hermione and Draco's POV, which I hope isn't too confusing.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco is visited by his mother and probation officer.

As Hermione exited the Draco hurriedly shouted out “Come back anytime.” Why did he say that? Shaking his head he went back behind the counter to start the process of closing the cafe down for the day. 

"So who was the pretty girl?"  
Of course Jessica was taking the piss out of him. "Just someone I used to go to school with."  
"Old flame?"  
"No."  
You sure? Seemed to me there's more there than just an 'old schoolmate.'"  
"I was a prick to her in school, and I wanted to apologise to her, ok?"  
"You? A prick? Makes sense." She said with a grin. "You're really taking the whole reformed bad boy thing seriously."  
"I never saw myself that way, but sure. I'm trying to make amends."

After closing the store, he had to pop in to the grocery before going home. Once he'd figured out how to cook, he'd begun experimenting with different recipes out of some cookbooks that were recommended by the owner of the bookstore around the corner from his flat. With visits from his mother once a week, he tried to make a meal that would impress her and her refined palate. Unlike her son, Narcissa was still uncomfortable navigating the Muggle World, which made going to a restaurant out of the question. She even seemed wary of visiting his flat sometimes with all the unfamiliar technology. His early attempts were met with faint praise, but recently she seemed to actually look forward to his meals. 

After securing fresh produce and fish, he returned home. Odd that he now considered this 65 square meter flat home. He was probably the first lord of the manor to not actually live at the manor in its thousand year history. In truth, it wasn't much, but it had everything that he needed. After placing a load in the laundry, he set about preparing their meal. About an hour later their was a faint knock on the door. With one last glance at his appearance he strode over to the door.

"Draco, you look well." As his mother entered his flat she placed a quick peck on his cheek before looking frantically around the room.  
"Mother."  
"Is there someone else here."  
"No mother, just us."  
"Draco!" she eyed the hallway to his bedroom with alarm. "Do you have a boggart infestation?"  
Confused, Draco followed his mother's glance to the cabinet that held his washing machine. Chuckling he went about explaining what a washing machine was in the same manner as the employee from the Muggle Liaison Office on the day he moved into his flat. 

"Mother, have you given any thought to my suggested modifications to the Muggle Studies Curriculum at Hogwarts?"  
"I've considered it Draco, but I don't really know where to begin. As you have seen, I can barely walk into Muggle territory without being alarmed by something."  
"That's kind of my point mother."

With that, he ushered his mother into the sitting room as he made a few final preparations for dinner. The nicoise salad just needed dressing, the potatos were already roasted, and the salmon just needed another minute. Once everything was plated, he brought out their dinner and asked his mother to join him at the table. 

As they ate he made the usual inquiries after his mother's friends, acquaintance, and enemies. She asked him about how he had spent his days and if he had any suggestions for the direction of the Malfoy estate. He was curious though about something and began to ask after some of his classmates from Hogwarts. He learned that Goyle was due to leave Azkaban soon, Pansy Parkinson was betrothed to some ignorant pureblood from the continent, and that Theo Nott had been living in seclusion. Not wanting to tip his mother off to his true interest he learned of Harry Potter's rise in the auror ranks and his engagement to the quidditch playing Weasley.  
"Have you heard anything about Granger?"  
"Granger?"  
"Surely you remember her Mother." Draco silently accused she was tortured and brutalized by your mad sister in front of your eyes. "Muggle-born, brightest witch of her age. Has she taken over the ministry yet? Led a crusade to free all house elves?"  
"No, I haven't heard anything about her. Odd, she must have moved abroad."  
Immediately moving on, he asked about Longbottom, who he didn't care about one way or another.  
As their evening continued, he knew where the conversation was leading with another plea from his mother to write or visit his father. Visiting was the easier excuse to make. He couldn't stomach a visit to Azkaban after his two months there awaiting trial. Just the thought of the place caused a shiver. The dementors may be gone from that accursed prison, but they left behind a darkness and a coldness that hadn’t been exorcised. 

He tried to make a fresh excuse every time his mother brought up writing a letter. The truth was that he didn't know what to say. He wanted his father to be proud of him, but he also didn't care about whether his father was proud. He wanted to respect his Malfoy heritage, but he would also like to burn the manor to the ground. He hated his father, but still a part of him loved his father. He wanted to do something important with his life, but part of him would be content to work in the cafe forever. Draco knew that he was lost and struggling, and now he knew Granger must be as well.  
_________________________________________________

As he awoke the next morning, Draco grimaced with a reminder that today was the day where his bloody probation officer would show for their monthly meeting. While initially he had hated how intrusive they were, asking for details on every place he’d visited, his interactions with muggles, and whether he had been in contact with anyone from the magical world. Now, these meetings felt like a waste of time. He went to the same places, he was polite to people he interacted with, and outside of his mother he never saw anybody. 

Dragging himself awake, he made himself his usual morning tea and toast. After retrieving his morning edition of The Times, he settled in. Draco’s world was now very small, limited to his surrounding neighborhood mostly by choice. He couldn’t enter Wizarding London and he never saw the point of just going to another neighborhood to visit a different bookstore or a restaurant that served the same dishes as the ones near him. Reading the paper gave him a sense of the outside world, and he enjoyed the struggle of wrapping his head around Muggle politics. 

Hearing a quick knock he reluctantly walked to the door to see the face of Ernie Macmillan who immediately chided, “Still alive, I see.” Leading himself into Draco’s flat, he motioned Draco over and proceeded to check his ankle monitor for tampering and the last spells cast in his proximity. He cast his usual charm to detect any deceptive answers before the usual questioning to begin. It proceeded much as it normally did until it came to his final questions. Draco explained about his mother’s visit and briefly summarized what they talked about.  
“Have you had contact with anyone else from the Wizarding World?”

“No, I haven’t been in contact with anyone else.” His usual answer slipped out before he was able to stop himself.  
Macmillan narrowed his eyes before restating the question.

“Yes, someone from our world came into the cafe while I was working. Nothing of consequence happened.”  
Macmillan narrowed his eyes again. Draco knew he detected the falsehood, but he also knew he didn’t know what part of the statement was a lie. 

“OK. I saw one person from the Wizarding World. We talked for a few minutes.”

“What did you talk about?”

“Why I was working in the coffee shop. They were confused and I told them about the conditions of my probation.”

“Who was it?”

“Listen, I really don’t want to break their confidence.” Thankfully, Draco wasn’t compelled to answer the question, Macmillan’s charm wasn’t as strong as veritaserum. “It was an uncomfortable conversation for the both of us and I don’t want you tracking them down and grilling them.”

“Malfoy, were you speaking to a follower of Voldemort? Why was the conversation, as you put it, uncomfortable.”  
Draco laughed, genuinely with his entire body before responding “No, definitely not a follower of him. I think they were even part of the Order. --- I just apologized to them for how I behaved toward them in our past.”

“Really, Malfoy? You were hiding that you apologized to someone! Don’t you realize that’s kind of the point of all of this!” Macmillan was irate. “Don’t you know this is why you’re not rotting in Azkaban? Harry thought you deserved a second chance! That’s why he testified for you.”

Like a cornered animal Draco lashed out, “Please. He’s “Harry” now? Is that what you call him as you whisper sweet nothings into his ear every night. He only spoke for me as a favor to my mother!”

Calming himself. Macmillan spoke with an even tone “believe what you want about him, Malfoy. At least it seems like this program is actually working.” Pausing for a moment, Macmillan continued, “Were you genuine in your apology to Mr. or Ms. possibly former member of the Order?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. We’re done here.”

With that, Macmillan dismissed his charm, gave a quick nod, and went for the exit.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione gets a latte and Draco goes to a library.

After her tearful reunion with her mother, Hermione was starting to feel more like herself. While she had seen her parents regularly over the last year, their relationship wasn’t what it once was. She always assumed they were angry at her, assumed they would never trust her, and assumed that a part of them hated her. She’d thought that her parents needed protection still, but her moment of weakness finally allowed them to actually reunite. She once again felt like a daughter with loving parents that would support her no matter what. As she went about her daily activities, she no longer felt like a ghost of her past self. Instead she began to find joy in trying new restaurants, exploring other areas of London, and reading new authors.

Yet, there was still something missing. a part of herself that she was cut off from. 

Deviating from her normal route to work, she went down a now familiar street. She wasn’t sure if a certain barista (baristo?) was working or not. She wasn’t sure if he wanted to see her or not. Merlin, she wasn’t even sure if she wanted to see him or not. 

Still, she pushed through the door to reveal a familiar head of platinum blonde hair behind the counter and a cafe experiencing a rush of customers. After waiting a few minutes, she’d decided on an eggnog latte. It was the season after all. She hadn’t tried it before, and she had always wondered why something with such an unappetizing name was so popular in the states. 

After she ordered she waited and watched him work with efficiency after he prepared order after order. After a few minutes, he looked around the cafe. When he found her, he gave a slight nod of the head and a smile as he went about preparing her drink. She couldn't help but to return the gesture. 

“Granger!”

“Thanks Malfoy. Well not just for the drink, but for the other day too. I was wondering if ...” She trailed off at the end of her sentences, not really knowing what she wanted to say to him, but it was definitely more than that.

“Of course” Malfoy thankfully interrupted as a blush crept up her cheeks. “I can’t really talk now. I’m actually busy right now, but perhaps another time.”

“Right.” Hermione nervously looked around. “I’m off to work now anyway.”

“OK, where are you working?”

“At the North Library just off of Halloway” Hermione responded honestly if only because she was surprised by the inquiry.

“Have a good day, let me know what you think about the drink. I’ve only made it a few times.”

With nervous energy she hastily said good bye and made a hasty retreat outside. She looked down to realize two things. She forgot to get a lid, and two there wasn’t a design in her cup. Feeling unexpectedly disappointed, she took a sip of the mysterious beverage and went about her day.

__________________________________________

After closing up the cafe for the day, Draco set off towards Holloway street. Over his time in Muggle London, he had spent altogether too much money on books. He had learned that you could take books from a library without paying for it, but he had no idea how any of it worked. He also couldn’t figure out how to ask anyone how libraries worked without making a fool of himself. At this point he could survive in the Muggle World, but he still felt like he was lacking basic knowledge about various aspects of daily life. Maybe he could turn whatever relationship was developing with Granger into that of a tutor and a pupil. She seemed friendly, if a bit nervous, this morning. She did choose to come to his cafe. That couldn’t mean nothing. They were becoming friendly, what were they? Chuckling to himself he could only imagine what his pompous twelve year-old self would think of him now. 

As he entered through the doors of a rather impressive looking brick building, he encountered a surprisingly comforting environment. He’d consistently found the Muggle world to be loud, chaotic, and full of too much stimulation. Maybe it was just from growing up at the manor, but he found himself at least a little bit on edge in public. Yet, here he discovered a calming lack of sound, only occasionally interrupted by a few whispered voices. He didn’t see a sign of her after walking in and gathering a little bit of courage, approached an ancient looking woman seated behind the desk to his left. 

“Excuse me, is Granger -er- Hermione Granger here?”

“Are you of friend of hers?” she questioned politely.

“Well, not exactly. We used to go to school together. I saw her this morning and she said she worked here.”

“You’ll find her upstairs in the children’s section.”

“Thank you.”

Walking further into the library he smelled the books. Not quite as musty as the one at Hogwarts, but still a pleasant, comforting smell that took him back to times before the war. Then, he had just been a student, ignorant of the hell that would soon become his life. He ascended the stairs and moved off in the direction of a familiar voice. 

Before her sat a few young children eagerly listening as Granger read about a little girl named Matilda who was levitating a glass of water with a newt onto her evil headmistress. Granger’s voice rose and fell as she created voices for each character. With all of her attention, Draco observed quietly out of her eyeline, grinning at the scene before him. In his head he imagined a tiny Granger with large hair playing a prank on a disbelieving Muggle teacher. Thinking about it for the first time, he imagined how bizarre it must have been to grow up with accidental magic, but not knowing what it was. Did she read this book when she was younger and wonder if the author somehow knew? What would it be like to receive a letter from a school you’d never heard of before, telling you that you were a witch? He couldn’t even imagine. He could practice magic before he could remember, even if he couldn’t control what he did back then. 

As she came to the end of the chapter Granger looked up and saw him for the first time. After thanking all of the children for listening to ‘story time’ she walked over. 

“Did you enjoy story time” Hermione asked with a mischievous tone. 

“I did. What were you reading from?”

“Matilda!” Hermione responded excitedly showing him the cover of the book. “It’s by Roahld Dahl, probably my favorite author growing up. This book is extremely special to me.”

“I can guess why.”

“What brings you here?”

“Oh. Erm. I was wondering if you could kind of tutor me.” Draco’s words rushed out before he could take them back.

“Tutor you?”

“I was just thinking you could help me learn about the Muggle world.”

“Haven’t you been living in it for over a year?”

“Well, yes. I get by fine, but I don’t know things that everyone else already knows. For example, I know you can get books from here and you don’t have to pay, but I don’t know how the transaction works. I can’t ask these types of questions without people looking at me like I’m from another planet.”

“Understandable, you kind of are”

“Exactly. But I figured that I could ask you because, well, you’re Muggleborn. And you know where I come from.”

“Who are you?” Granger replied before quickly continuing. “You want me to teach you how to be a proper Muggle then?”

“I suppose so.” 

Grinning, Granger walked toward the stairs and beckoned him to follow.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco gets homework.

“I’ll take over for now, Lydia” Granger took a place behind the desk before saying to Draco, “You need a library card.”

“Ok, how much is it?” Draco replied, taking out his money clip. 

“No wonder you never asked anyone. It’s free. I just need to get your information.”

After Draco supplied his address and basic information, he paused when she asked for his phone number. “My number?”

“I swear Malfoy, it’s shocking that you’re still alive.” Then, grabbing a scrap of paper she wrote down a series of numerals and passed it over to him.

“What’s this? Is this my number?” Draco honestly didn’t know what was going on at this point. 

“No. It’s mine. If you call me tonight, I can tell you yours because I have caller ID. This is information you should know, especially if you meet someone.” Hermione informed him matter of factly. 

“If I meet someone?”

“Well yeah, if you meet someone and you want to see them again it’s customary to exchange numbers so that you can contact one another. I’m honestly surprised you’ve gone this long without having to deal with this issue.”

“I don’t exactly meet a lot of people.”

“That’s surprising.”

“Why?”

“Oh, no reason don’t worry about it.” Hermione was blushing furiously at this point. Suddenly changing topics she began, “So. The library is organized by genre, go look for a book, and come back when you’re done. You can check out up to three at a time. If you turn them in after the due date you have to pay late fees.”

“Any recommendations?”

“Obviously, what types of books do you like.” 

After a brief conversation Draco was walking away with a slip of paper with three titles, authors, and the sections he could find them. He was off to find The Fellowship of the Ring by J.R.R. Tolkien, Jurassic Park by Michael Crichton, and Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen. When he returned from his errand, Hermione smiled as he handed over the books. 

“Have you had any social interactions with Muggles?”

“I’ve gone to a few football matches with people from work and went to the pub twice.”

“OK. Here’s your homework.”

“Homework?”

Hermione sighed before continuing, “Of course you don’t know what that is. This book,” she said picking up Pride and Prejudice “is your assignment. Read it within the next two weeks. I’ve joined a group where we discuss books and I think you would add an interesting perspective to the discussion.”

“An assignment? How many inches of parchment would you like Professor Granger?” Draco asked in a joking tone.

“No parchment Mr. Malfoy,” Hermione replied with mock sternness, “please be prepared to discuss this fine example of Muggle literature in two weeks time.” 

“Thank you Professor.”

__________________________________

As Draco went about his normal post-work routine, he didn’t fight the smile that kept creeping onto his face. He truly enjoyed speaking with Granger. He liked being around her. He wanted to know more about her. She seemed different from the swotty classmate constantly at the side of Potter. Perhaps this was just a result of interacting with her outside of watchful wizarding eyes or preconceived notions. 

Yet, something was obviously off about her. When they first met she said she had a healer for some issues after the war. Why was she working in the Muggle world? From what he saw, she seemed to enjoy her work, but he couldn’t help but feel that it was beneath her. How did one go from being instrumental in the defeat of the most powerful dark wizard in history to reading books to children? Why would someone risk their life saving the Wizarding World only to abandon it after they were victorious? 

He may get the answers to these questions in time, but he didn’t feel it was his place to criticize her life choices. The fact that she was even willing to speak to him was enough. The fact that she seemed to enjoy it was all the more shocking. He didn’t know whether he hoped that she noticed or didn’t notice that his request for a ‘tutor’ was little more than an excuse to see her more.

That night, Draco sat down, cracked open Pride and Prejudice, and began reading. 

“It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.”

Slamming the book shut, he picked up the receiver of his never used telephone, punched in her number. Once Granger answered he immediately bellowed out, “What is this shite you have me reading?”

Her first response was a fit of giggles. “You always were a good student. Starting on your assignment already.”

“Not as good as some” Draco didn’t hesitate to return the compliment. “So what is this? Some elaborate joke?”

“How far did you get before this lovely phone call?”

“One sentence.”

Laughing again, Hermione implored him to continue with it and informed him it was a British classic for a reason. She then went on to tell him his actual phone number and explain the purpose and need for phones. Draco voiced his newfound displeasure that the Wizarding World didn’t just use phones. The communication was instant, you didn’t need to write, and you didn’t need to deal with the oftentimes fragile owl temperament. As he explained his problems with floo calls, she awarded him 5 points to Slytherin for, as she put it, ‘critical thinking’. Before ending the call they arranged their next so-called tutoring session.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The tutoring session goes off in an unexpected direction.

Hermione was full of nervous energy. She had spent her free time the last few days thinking about what to do for Malfoy’s first Muggle tutoring lesson. She had pages upon pages of ideas with notes and flow charts. Activities were planned and modified, but she came back time and time again to the same problem. She didn’t know what Malfoy didn’t know. It wasn’t as though he couldn’t survive from day to day, he just seemed to be missing some miscellaneous knowledge. She knew that he could buy things that he wanted, which was not surprising given his background. She knew that he didn’t really understand some technology like phones, but she didn’t know what he knew about television or travelling the underground. She would need to treat this first session as a sort of diagnostic to determine his learning needs. 

With that in mind, she took a bus to Draco’s neighborhood, located his street and approached his address. She couldn’t help envy where he was living. It was a pleasant neighborhood with many parks, restaurants, and every amenity close at hand. His flat wasn’t far from an underground station, but far enough away so the street wasn’t too busy. She couldn’t imagine that she could afford to live here on her salary, and she couldn’t imagine that Malfoy was getting by solely on his wages from the café. Steeling herself, she rang the doorbell to his flat. Moments later, the door opened and his blond head of hair and a surprisingly pleasant smile greeted her. 

“Hello, Professor,” he greeted, “would you like to come in?”

With a slight smile, Hemione entered into a very pleasant, though sparsely decorated flat. As she looked around she observed the tidy space, not exactly what one expected walking into a flat occupied by twenty year old male. Harry’s residence at Grimmauld place was always messy and he had the help of a house elf, albeit of the grouchy, older variety. “This is a nice place, Malfoy.”

“It is. I can’t say I was happy with it when I first moved in, but it’s grown on me. Please have a seat. Would you like anything?”

“Do you have an espresso machine here?” Hermione replied in a joking tone. “If not, tea would be lovely.”

“Tea it is then.” Malfoy responded as he went off in the direction of the kitchen.

Taking in her surroundings further, she noted the rather expensive furnishings, a growing book collection, and a multitude of candles spread around the room. She could see Pride and Prejudice on a side table next to what she could only assume was his favorite chair and the other books she recommended sitting on the coffee table with a candle holder on top of them. 

Suddenly she heard a question from the kitchen “Milk? Sugar?” 

“Oh, just a splash of milk.” Malfoy returned shortly afterward carrying two cups of tea and placed hers on the coffee table in front of her before talking in position in what she had correctly surmised to be his favorite chair. 

“I should have mentioned this earlier, but can you refrain from using magic in my presence?” Malfoy asked in an almost apologetic tone. 

“Of course, why?” Malfoy was, of course, unaware that she couldn’t even manage a lumos right now, but she would play along. Not to mention, she wanted to know the answer to her question. 

“I have this tracker, you see?” Malfoy pulled up his pant leg to reveal a black anklet that resembled the ones used in the Muggle world to monitor individuals on house arrest. After Hermione nodded, he continued, “It essentially puts the trace on me. Apparently they can’t get it the trace to work on adults, so they have these. If the Ministry detects a spell being used in my presence I’ll have two aurors at my door before I can snap my fingers. My mother levitated her plate to the sink once and I heard an angry voice on the other side of my door not thirty seconds later” 

“Fascinating. What other capabilities does it have?” Hermione couldn’t help but to respond with earnest curiosity.

“Of course. You’re like a niffler to knowledge aren’t you?” Malfoy grinned. “It tells them my location, prevents apparition, and is, of course, unbreakable.” 

“How did you control yourself at first? Didn’t you just use wandless magic by second nature, like your mother did?”

“Not everyone is as gifted with magic as you are, Granger.” Malfoy responded in a mostly playful tone, but there something else mixed in there.

“I’m not bloody Morgana, I just study. The information is out there if people would just care enough to look for it” Hermione responded with a tinge of anger to her voice. 

“Listen Granger, I didn’t mean to cause any offense. I’ve just always struggled with it, at least outside the Manor.” Malfoy’s earnest tone calmed Hermione a bit, but she couldn’t resist a bit of intellectual conversation. 

“Outside of the Manor? I wonder if it’s an ancient spell, or it’s ward related, or perhaps blood magic?”

“I honestly have no idea, but it’s probably one of those. Actually, probably blood magic. The Manor has been in my family for nearly a millennium. It wouldn’t shock me if I learned that one of my dear departed ancestors had done something deplorable like that in pursuit of power. Maybe when, if, my life gets back on track I’ll investigate.”

“Do that, and let me know what you find. I’m hardly an expert where it concerns ancient forms of magic.”

“Are you telling me that you wouldn’t help me find the answer?”

“Oh, I would, and perhaps I will, but we’ve strayed from the purpose of my visit here today, haven’t we?” And for the record, wandless magic isn’t difficult per se. It’s difficult, but not for the reasons people think. It’s all about focus and intent. Without wands to act as conduit for our magic we need to focus our mind on what we intend to occur. It’s the same reason why accidental magic in children occurs. When we want something to happen bad enough, it happens. It’s not even accidental, it’s purposeful. For example, it probably wouldn’t surprise you to learn that the first time I remember doing magic was when I wanted a book off of a high shelf in a library!” Hermione finished her rapid fire treatise on accidental and wandless magic with an excited tone. She hadn't felt this alive in years. 

“Granger, I sincerely regret not knowing you better at Hogwarts, you are certainly more of a stimulating conversationalist than my old friends.” Malfoy seemed to end this statement with a wistful tone of his voice before continuing. “What do you have planned for me today Professor?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay in posting this chapter. It was pretty rapid fire at the start, but I was struggling with piecing together the next act of the story. Now, however, I feel like I'm on the path I want to be on. Let me know what you think in the comments.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first work of fan fiction. 
> 
> Feedback is greatly appreciated.


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